


Reclamation

by YamikoPros



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, PTSD, Plot Divergent, Post-Tresspasser, Recovery, Slow Build, Smut, hinted love triangle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamikoPros/pseuds/YamikoPros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been 3 years since the Exalted Council. Commander Cullen has many words left unsaid as his lover, Inquisitor Maeryl Lavellan, had disappeared without a trace. Now, familiar faces arrive at his Templar Rehabilitation property and he can't help but wonder if all of this was too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunion

### Chapter One:Reunion

Cullen awoke that brisk spring morning with sunlight shining through the window onto his face to the intense cawing of a raven. Of course, a raven. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes with his hand, trying to push the sleep out of him as he yawned. He soon opened his eyes to see pitch black ones staring back at him. The raven cawed out, firmly clutching onto the railing of his bed frame. A letter was rolled up against its leg and was tied with a red decorated ribbon. The bird no doubt belonged to Leliana, Divine Victoria, he noted as he reached and swiped the letter off of its leg. It cawed out again and flew out into the sky. Why he even bothered getting a bird's cage for them to nest in he did not know. He gingerly opened the letter and began to read.  
"C,  
Within the week of this message's arrival two of our friends will arrive at your residence. They need your help.  
L."  
His brow knitted in confusion. "Our friends?" He muttered. In truth, he had not expected anyone to contact him, more specifically anyone who wasn't Leliana. That woman had contacts with everyone from Orlais to the edges of the Imperium. It's been 3 years since the disbandment of the Inquisition and Cullen was counting the days. It's been 3 years, 5 months, and 12 days since he has last seen the Inquisitor, Maeryl Lavellan. He felt his chest tighten at the thought of her and sighed. Over 2 years of a steady and sure relationship, she dropped off the face of Thedas. He still kept the engagement ring he had, planning to propose during the Exalted Council--which he never seemed to have gotten the time to. His heart ached for her and he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to move on. No one understood him like she did.  
Cullen heard the door knock and got up, one of the maids spoke through the door,  
"Ser Cullen! The men are up. Sven and Aldres have already begun working on the firewood and tidying around. Arian and Jakob had been checking up in the infirmary, taking care of some of the men. No one passed last night, Maker bless them."  
Cullen grunted in response, pulling out some casual attire and dressing himself quickly. His house was quaint, a two story with 2 bedrooms, average kitchen, living room, and a bathroom downstairs. It was cozy, family like. The others living on the land, the ex Templars and lyrium addicts, lived in a large building similar to a barracks. He and the men where slowly adding to the property with a horse ranch, small farm, and timber yard. Overall his tiny house became much more than what he had originally thought.  
He walked out to the downstairs as the maid began to tidy up his room, looking at the already prepared breakfast sitting at the kitchen table. It was odd, normally she makes food for the other men, not necessarily caring for Cullen. He shrugged it off and began to eat, staring outside the large window on the wall absent-mindedly.  
The day was rather quiet, running on schedule with monotonous dread. He helped with the timber, talked to the men and was doing the best he could at the moment. The men where doing better, recovery was getting easier and he always made sure that they knew how to put the food on their plates. Often they worked in the fields or even setting up traps and hunting. It was honest work, something he felt a lack of in the past 15 years. In his free time, he worked out--fear that his skills would get rusty. Cullen wasn't the type to be taken unprepared for anything.  
The days went by quickly, each one bleeding into the next until one day a violent storm erupted from out of the blue. The winds gusted through the clearing of his house and the downpour was violent. Many of them stayed inside that day, just watching the rain hit the ground and prayed that the sun would shine longer than 5 minutes. It never really ended. As such, Cullen tried to sleep earlier in the evening, sitting in the comfy rocking chair he owned(he felt old, despite being only 35) and pulling out a book to quiet his mind. A small portrait hung on the wall, one of him and the inquisitor. He often turned away from it.  
It had to have been in the middle of the night when he woke up to loud thrashing of horses and men shouting. The fire in his fireplace died out, only embers remained. He sprung up and gripped his sword, walking outside.  
Two figures and two horses stood in the clearing and his men where arguing, swords baring and flashed with lightning in the distance. "We want no trouble from you miss, just turn back down the road, the village is close enough!" Sven growled. The horses neighed and stood on their hind legs, almost ready to smack Sven in the face.  
"And I am telling you we are at the right place. I am looking for--Commander!" The woman's voice echoed as she whipped her head at Cullen. Cassandra. Cullen yelled at his men to put away their swords and to return to the Barracks as he had the situation under control. They quickly followed his orders, never losing his touch as a military leader. Cassandra dismounted from her horse and worked to get the other party down who seemed nothing more than a bundle of cloth against the harsh downpour. Cullen's eyes widen when he saw the mount. The bloody sword impaled through its skull, it's skinny, death-like appearance and leathery skin. The bog unicorn. Cullen immediately took to Cassandra's side and helped her usher the stranger inside. He couldn't see the person, they were petite and covered by the thick, soaked cloak they wore.  
Cullen went to relight the fireplace, never taking his eyes off of Cassandra and the stranger. He shook his hair as his hand ran through, water going everywhere in the process. Cassandra took off her own cloak, herself still in the relatively same adventurer armor he last saw her in some 3 years ago. She then helped with the stranger, taking off their cloak as well. Cullen froze at who he saw was underneath.  
She was skinny, almost deathly so, her head was down and she was shaking from the cold, the Dalish armor clinking against itself. Her hair, an intense red like that of a sunset covered her face and curled around her head. It hung close to her cheeks from the rain, but it was sloppy and out of control. A unkept hair cut. He couldn't see her eyes but her deathly pale skin to the stark Crimson vallaslin on her face and body gave away her identity immediately. Her missing left arm confirmed it immediately. "Maeryl.." He whispered.  
She gasped and looked up at Cullen, her eyes frenzied and full of fear. One was the same silver hue he remembered, the other a light green--a color change which he assumed happened during the Exalted Council. Her lips quivered and she looked like a scared halla caught in a lantern's light. Cassandra sighed and very gently pushed the elvhen woman up the stairs to the spare bedroom as Cullen watched, his heart racing. 3 years.. Maker, what has happened?  
Cassandra returned, running a hand through her hair and looked at the ex-commander of the Inquisition. "Sit down, there is much to discuss." She spoke, exhaustion lacing her voice and Cullen returned to his rocking chair. She pulled up one of the stools from the table and sat across from him, her hands resting on her knees. She's aged a bit, he noticed. The crows feet where faint and her laugh lines where more noticeable. If he judged closely, he could probably see some grey hairs.  
"We found Lavellan about a month ago.. She was wandering the streets of Val Chevin when one of Leliana's agents informed me. She...she seems to be struggling with a lyrium addiction."  
Cullen's breath hitched and he gripped his chair. Lyrium? Maeryl wasn't even a Mage, it didn't make any sense-  
"We suspected one of the inner circle mages convinced her that taking lyrium would help with the mark, given how much she was struggling. We assume Solas. Cullen, I know she isn't gone. She's still..her. Sort of. She remembers but she can't speak that much. We don't know what happened between the time of the Exalted Council and now. But if anyone can help her, you can." Cassandra's voice was low and quiet, yet held worry which the ex-commander rarely heard. Cassandra was one of Maeryl's closest friends, right up there with Iron Bull, Dorian, and Varric. To hear her concern only solidified the fears in his mind.  
Cullen slowly nodded. He arose from his chair and looked down at the woman. "I understand. Believe me Cassandra, I will keep you informed of this. Please, stay the night. My room is open and I can sleep on the couch." He could still hear the pitter patter of rain outside. Cassandra nodded and gave him a weary smile. "Thank you, Cullen." She took her pack and went up to his room. Cullen remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you have any questions please feel free to ask. No, we can't always have a happy ending (though these two souls desperately need it). This expands on what would happen if Cullen and Lavellan never married.


	2. Distant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its harsher in the daylight.

Dawn arose, the darkness of the night sweeping away the dark storm that hexed the day before. Cullen groaned, waking up to the sound of the sound birds at his window. He opened his eyes and those of a curious elf met him. He yelped and fell of the couch with surprise, a large thunk echoed in the house. He groaned in pain and sat up, staring at the startled woman. "Maker's breath, Maeryl! You scared...me.." He watched her as she turned to the portrait of them. She reached out to touch her face but stopped, her eyes filled with an indescribable emotion. "It...was so.. Long ago.. I didn't think you..would keep it." Her voice rasped out. Cullen winced. It was so different from what he remembered. She was so different from the woman he almost married. The old Maeryl had long curling hair, sometimes kept in a braid. She held fear with one hand and respect in the other. Her hips swaggered back then, full of the roguish charisma that stereotyped her trade. She was a woman of influence, acted like one.  
This Maeryl was that one from 3 years ago and stuffed into a box. That old Mae died some time ago, though he did not want to believe it so. Cullen's heart clenched. He didn't know if Cassandra was right about the lack of amnesia.  
She sighed and looked to Cullen, something swirling in the icy blue sea of her iris. It reeked of melancholy. It was the first time Cullen was able to get a full run down of her. She seemed to have lost more than her arm after the Exalted Council. Her hair was still a mess from the night before and now that she was out of her armor she was thinner than he had immediately perceived. Bones threatened to jut out of her flesh, the way the cotton shirt she drowned in showed. The leather pants sagged in emptiness. She was always thin, but this was beyond the level of normal even for her. Maker, how he stared.  
Cassandra cleared her throat and Cullen's head snapped to attention. He did wasn't even aware that she was awake, nor how he missed the heavy steps on his stairway. She smiled and hoisted her bag over her back and yawned. "I have to report to Leliana by the end of this week. I apologize, I'm going to be leaving soon." Cullen took a minute to digest this information but then nodded understandingly.  
Maeryl looked at Cassandra, quiet feeling her features against the sun that shined through the windows. "Thank you, Cassandra... For everything." She bowed her head in appreciation and Cullen watched this interaction as Cassandra smiled and pulled Maeryl into a one arm hugged before leaving out the door. Something shifted. There was swearing and the sound of upset horses outside soon after. Maeryl's eyes widened as she also ran out of the house. Cullen, confused as ever, on her heel.  
What he saw would have struck him as ridiculous years ago, but after his time in Skyhold he swore he's seen everything. The bog unicorn was snipping at Cassandra as though to protect the other horse from her master. He was using its "horn" to try and prod the Lady Seeker away. It neighed and Cassandra huffed in frustration, still trying to reach for her horse. The Ferelden Fodder was hesitant to comply, whether from devotion of fear of the undead mount they could not say for certain. Maeryl rushed to the Unicorn's side and tugged on the reigns, whispering angrily under her breath as she tugged him away. The unicorn neighed out in protest of course but followed his mistress' direction. Cassandra nodded at the elf in appreciation as she mounted her horse. She waved her goodbye once more and bounded off towards the road.  
Maeryl huffed and looked over at Cullen, who had been watching the scene with mild amusement. "Do you have a stable I can put this big boy in? Or should I let him terrorize your land?"  
Cullen snapped to attention and nodded. "Just around back, if you'd let me-" when he reached for the reigns the bog unicorn rose to his hind legs and practically _growled_ at him. The nerve! After pushing him back to the ground Maeryl sighed. "Let me handle him, Cookie doesn't like men... Or anyone."  
His eyebrows knit into confusion as he showed the Lady Inquisitor to the stables around his cottage. "Why in Andraste's name would you name that..thing Cookie?"  
"He likes Cookies." She stated matter of factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maker, Cullen didn't even know if that thing ate! He shook his head in disbelief as he watched Mae guide her mount into the stable, quite a few slots from the other Fodders.  
She smiles awkwardly at Cullen, something that felt unsaid after all these years hidden in her features. It brimmed on the surface between them, both aware of what was left behind. What could have been. What could possibly be. His heart fluttered at the thought.  
She shook her head and led him back into his house. "I'm surprised, I suppose. I wasn't expecting you to-"  
"What, to remain by myself after three years?"  
Maeryl flinched at his outburst. "...I was going to say build a Templar Rehabilitation Center. But I suppose that question needed to be asked too." She didn't look at him, rubbing her shoulder and what was left of her arm gingerly. She hung her head low as Cullen swore to himself mentally. Now wasn't the time. He wasn't sure when would ever be the time.  
"I..yes. I figured it was better than squatting in a village for the rest of my life. Besides, Lelian- Divine Victoria gave me some land. Might as well make something worthwhile on it." He spoke, softly and rubbing the back of his head.  
"Ever the workaholic, Cullen Rutherford.. Well, I'm glad your happy. I might go take a walk-" she stretched and looked at him "I'm sure you have other pressing matters to attend to... You always did value your work above any human interaction available.. People change but you're as stoic as ever." She snapped, something of shame and rebellion tracing her features. He was hit with recoil. Her meaning wasn't lost to him. Gone were the nights they laid in each other's arms, tracing the constellations with their fingertips through the hole in his roof. Gone were the sweet whispers, two years of commitment and everything that made the battle for survival worth fighting for. He stood in shock before trying to reach out to her, but she backed away from his arms reach, an equal amount of hurt on her pale face.  
She left, taking her bag with her. Maker, she wasn't even wearing shoes. She said that she was going to collect some herbs to help out around the area before the men awoke. The day was still in its infancy, and it would be a couple more lonely hours until his watches woke up. Cullen sat down shakily onto his old rocking chair. With his face in his hands he let out a sorrowful, defeated cry.


End file.
